


And the World Kept Spinning On

by fish_from_murderland



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Character Death, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Reincarnation, Romance, Soulmates, Suicide Attempt, it was only briefly mentioned though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 17:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19381141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fish_from_murderland/pseuds/fish_from_murderland
Summary: She heard him laugh, head thrown back in mirth, thousands of moments concentrated into one, into here and now, and she fell in love again.(His name was Gilbert Beilschmidt, but that wasn’t very important, because very soon, it will be forgotten, and her name is Erzsébet Héderváry, and that wasn’t important either, because names like this lose their meaning with time.)--------Or, Erzsébet and Gilbert's story, in which, Erzsébet cannot die, and Gilbert comes back, every time, as someone different.





	And the World Kept Spinning On

The first time she met him, she was young and free, human, before the world had unleashed its fury on her and took that away too. And they were friends, even though they were not supposed to be, because children are like that – they see the good in the world and they chase it, because _sides_ don’t matter, because they see another human being and they don’t point their swords at them but run to them and scream _friend_.

 

They spent those innocent days together, two inseparable little fiends, wreaking havoc in the fields, fighting with sticks.

 _I will be a knight one day,_ he would boast, _the bravest knight in all the lands, and you’d be my lady love_.

And she would swat him on the arm and they’d throw mud at each other until one of their mothers come to tell them off, and they’d run away, giggling, because that was _fun_ , wasn’t it?

 

And then, and then, the times changed. _Boy_ and _girl_ grew into _man_ and _woman_ , and nothing is so simple anymore, and life thrust big words like _marriage_ and _duty_ and _honour_ at them. And he must go off and fight, and she must stay at home, because that’s what they’re _supposed_ to do. He lost his life in the battlefield, and she lost hers too, screaming long into the night, as _they_ took her soul from her.

 

(She had only known three days later. It was a dark and stormy night, and a single messenger flitted between the cottages in the town, bringing about the news of the deaths of their loved ones. He had hesitated at the sight of her, eyes feral and bloodshot, dress ripped to tatters. He’d delivered his message and fled, leaving her alone with her grief. And grieve she did, curled in a ball, howling at the sky, at Fate’s cruelty, at the injustice of it all.)

 

And the world kept spinning, on and on, because that what it’s supposed to do.

 

~O.o.o.o.O~

 

(His name was Gilbert Beilschmidt, but that wasn’t very important, because very soon, it will be forgotten, and her name is Erzsébet Héderváry, and that wasn’t important either, because names like this lose their meaning with time.)

 

~O.o.o.o.O~

 

She tried ending herself twenty-three days later. It didn’t work.

 

She bled out in the morning, and woke up in the afternoon.

 

~O.o.o.o.O~

 

She has long since stopped counting the summers, or really, counting much at all. For a being like her who had walked the Earth for so long under the guise of a maiden, Time does not suit her, and so she ignores Him entirely. But for the woman (being? sprite? thing?) once known as Erzsébet Héderváry, there is one constant amidst the chaos of quick-flowing human lives.

 

She forgot the past, because it hurt less this way, she forgot what it was like to be human, because that hurt too, and she forgot she had a soul, because that hurt the most of all. And she dulled her eyes, numbed her senses, because what’s the point, really, being stuck in a world where everything is in perpetual motion _except_ you, and even if you run so fast that you open all your old wounds again, you still won’t catch up.

 

And she did see humanity’s suffering, not because she wanted to but because her eyes were open at the wrong place, wrong time, and she weeps, not for them, but for herself, because seeing means you can’t be numb, and this sudden clarity, it stabs into your heart and it stays there, unmoving, until you rip it out yourself, and the memories stays, and it haunt you, for a long, long time, and no matter how many bottles of spirit you chug down your throat, it _stays_.

 

The world of course, kept spinning, because it can’t fucking stop, as much as she’d like it to.

 

~O.o.o.o.O~

 

She saw him again, one day, after she’d decided that the past is the past and that she might as well make the most of her current existence ( _hah!_ ). And it made no sense because he was _dead_ and had been dead for the best of a millennium, and for everyone’s best interest should probably stay dead. But she saw him, and her eyes do not lie.

 

Sure, it wasn’t the same person, because they didn’t have his fiery eyes and lopsided smile, didn’t have the same timbre in their voice, but she’d felt it, the way her long-presumed-dead soul jumped at the sight of them, the ache in her heart, and, for the first time in 894 years, Erzsébet Héderváry truly _felt_ again. And she heard him laugh, head thrown back in mirth, thousands of moments concentrated into one, into _here_ and _now_ , and she fell in love again.

 

(Later, she learnt his name was Hermann, and that he was an infantryman in the army. He spoke German and a little bit of Hungarian, and had a little brother called Siegfried. She had exactly three months and fourteen days with him before he marched again, and exactly four years, five months and twenty-one days before she realised he wasn’t coming back.)

 

The world kept spinning, the wars kept going, and she left as quietly as she came, albeit a little more drunk, a little bit more _alive_.

 

~O.o.o.o.O~

 

She saw him again, this time as a famous ballerina with a quick wit and even quicker feet, the same twang in her heart and the same ache in her soul. And _she_ took her on her tours and kissed her behind the cabinets, and Erzsébet once again remembered love. They lived together in a cosy little cottage a little distance from the cities, with a quaint little vegetable garden that her Julia loved taking care of. And she could almost fool herself that she was human.

 

Julia did die, but not alone, and as the world moved on, so did Erzsébet. (Or at least, tried to. It didn’t work all that well.)

 

~O.o.o.o.O~

 

She saw him at a bar, a handsome young waiter wearing a shirt with too many buttons left open and quite possibly the worst done tie she had seen in her life. It was one of the busier bars in Berlin, and she was just there to pass the time, get a little drunk and do something stupid. He smiled at her, more sweetly than politeness required, and his eyes, icy blue this time, _twinkled_ . And her heart seemed to forget how to beat and her soul sang and she was painfully reminded of something called _love_.

 

 _Have I met you before,_ he asked, smiling that familiar lopsided smile.

 _And perhaps you have,_ she replied smoothly, and her heart thundered away in her chest and her soul screamed at her _yes, tell him._

 

~O.o.o.o.O~

 

She was on top of the tallest building in the world, because human-made things don’t last, and you should take the chance to see them while they’re still there. There was a girl standing on top of the balcony railing, grey jacket dirty, ash blonde hair flying in the wind. In the split second before she fell, their eyes met, amber on green, and Erzsébet _remembered_. She watched helplessly as the girl who, in another life, was Gilbert Beilschmidt, plummeted to her death.

 

She screamed and cursed, at Fate, at the world, and some of the things she said were true. Fate is cruel, and Her sense of humour is atrocious at best, abominable at worst. But She does have a heart, not a good heart, mind you, but a heart nonetheless, and perhaps that is why they will always meet again, but the circumstances are never favourable.

 

And the world kept spinning, because Fate willed it so, and Fate is cruel.

 

~O.o.o.o.O~

 

And she did see him again, through the years. The playwright, the aspiring pilot, the little Jewish girl hiding behind ruins, the charismatic German-American actress, the awkward accountant, and so on. And, Fate does enjoy the bad timing of their meetings way too much. But they make it work somehow, and, she treasures those precious moments. And she was reminded, sharply, of that stubborn little thing called _hope._

 

~O.o.o.o.O~

 

 _Sometimes I felt like I’ve known you forever,_ he told her, sprawled on the couch, clutching a bottle of beer.

 _Me too,_ she said, and they carry on drinking, even though she knew she should get out of there, get away from bombs that she knew were dropping on them.

 

The house rattled as another missile landed somewhere near them.

She raised her bottle, _To peace._

 _To peace,_ he echoed.

 

~O.o.o.o.O~

 

People will always question why they seem so strange together, why she never seems to age, why there are no children no matter what. And she let them talk. It does not matter. What matters is that Erzsébet and Gilbert found each other again, at the twisted hands of Fate, and no, he can’t stay this time either, but they know they will find each other again, somehow, somewhere, no matter what the future holds.

 

The world kept moving of course, and a bad metaphor in this case would be to say it is like a disco ball, but that’s a bad metaphor so let’s just say that the Earth is hurtling through space at the speed of 1,670 km per hour and the sun brings our Solar System around its own orbit in the centre of the Milky Way and Erzsébet and Gilbert orbit each other, through the days, and through the River of Time.

 

**Fin**

**Author's Note:**

> Written on a cold Tuesday night at 12 pm knowing there is school tomorrow. Historical accuracy was thrown out the window, because my internet stop working after 11. The only research I did was how fast Earth moves. Sue me. I am a gremlin with zero sense of self-preservation.
> 
> Come and bother me on my Tumblr [here](https://dutchcementmixer.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you leave a kudos, comment or bookmark on my work, I will literally die for you.


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